


Human

by unfoldingbliss



Category: Koe no Katachi
Genre: Drama, F/M, Friendship, Gen, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-09
Updated: 2013-03-09
Packaged: 2017-12-04 17:32:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,892
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/713264
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unfoldingbliss/pseuds/unfoldingbliss
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It disgusted him, really, that they seemed to believe whole-heartedly they would be together forever and always [Nishiyima/Ishida - High School setting]</p>
            </blockquote>





	Human

It was a stupid little deal they made, apparently.

Every day after school and their extracurricular activities, they would walk on over to the park a block down and conduct a conversation entirely in sign language. Sometimes they were brief and Ishida would walk Nishimiya home, a flustered blush staining his cheeks as she interlaced their fingers together. Other times they would be out there for hours, both faces brightly lit, animating every emotion felt with the curve of their lips, the twist of their brows, and the swift motions of their hands. They would take the bus home on those occasions and Ishida would wrap his school jacket around her petite shoulders at the slightest shiver. She would either smile or protest before boarding the bus, still making sure to grab onto his hand as they walked up the steps and settled into their seats. Rain or shine, hot or cold, every day after school they would be off in their own little world, signing and smiling, ignoring any curious glances or condescending laughs shot their way.

Most would consider it disturbing, how Kinjo Hiroshi knew such intimate details surrounding the daily lives of his fellow classmates, but it’s not like he followed them or anything similar. The two lovestruck idiots literally sat at the same bench every day. A bench that just so happened to be in his line of vision when he glanced out of the window of his second story room across the street.

At first, he thought nothing of it. Practice exams and thick textbooks kept him busy and he shoveled through the material at neckbreak speed. While he had “made it” in a sense, accepted by the most prestigious high school in the district, for Hiroshi it was not yet enough. At least, not if he wanted to attend college abroad at schools like Columbia or UCLA. He had to prove he could make it in that environment and there was little room for relaxation or friends unless it was a weekend.

But, a pattern soon arose and he could no longer turn a blind eye at the events proceeding outside his window every afternoon. Both were familiar to him: Ishida was in his homeroom and Nishiyima sat a few seats away during creative writing club. However, Hiroshi was quiet by nature and therefore rarely said a word to either. Besides, Ishida sat on the other side of the class and Nishiyima couldn’t talk (not really, anyway), so what was the point? They would disappear from his life as soon as high school was over and he felt no need to tie himself down to such affectionate fools.

Still, his eyes would take quick glances every now and again as he solved a long math problem or translated a play into English. Just to see if they were out there, completely engrossed by the other in every little way. Sometimes he would look too late, the bench empty or occupied by another student or couple. Those instances stirred something in the hollow of his chest and he neither had the patience nor courage to investigate the feeling further. He figured it was relief. Of course, it had to be. They were stupid little dimwits, accepted by the high school due to the disability of one and the pragmatic skills of the other.

It disgusted him, really, that they seemed to believe whole-heartedly they would be together forever and always. Must have had each other their whole lives, born soulmates, keeping one another afloat through the wreckage of life. Once they left high school, no doubt their little fantasies about love would crumble when exposed to the cruelty of the real world. Unlike him, they had yet to prepare for their lives after. They had yet to suffer and work through the sounds of piercing shouts and flying glass.

After all, there was a reason he locked himself in his room day after day.

Once a month had passed, Hiroshi began to tune into the gossiped tidbits surrounding Nishiyima and Ishida. Not much of them were very kind. More often than not, it was a girl reeling about Nishiyima finding such a great catch like Ishida. He was modestly popular around the school grounds, being a prominent member of the baseball team and men’s choir. There was the typical jealous first or second (and sometimes third or fourth) year complaining about Ishida sauntering around like he owned the place, but it was nothing like the blunt, harsh words whispered behind Nishiyima as she walked down a hall. Whether it concerned her voice or hair or even the color of her shoes, there was always something that caused a ruckus between his classmates.

“I swear, she’s like a little puppy following her master wherever he goes,” one such girl, Yamaguchi giggled beside him during break, “I wonder if he sets out a bowl for her to eat!”

“I still can’t believe he puts up with her!” his childhood friend, Kotone whined, “It has to be some kind of charity case, right? He feels sorry for her and just can’t bring himself to break it off. I bet if the perfect girl came along, she’d convince him that he was only prolonging the inevitable. What do you think, Hiroshi?”

“It’s Kingo when we’re in school, Hayashi,” he replied, flipping the page of the English novel he was currently reading, “And I’ve told you before, I won’t participate in your silly gossip.”

“Ugh, you’re no fun!” she stuck out her tongue and Hiroshi rolled his eyes, “Fine, he’s coming back anyway.”

Kotone was correct. A moment later, Ishida opened the door and signed goodbye to Nishiyima, who returned the gesture with a white notebook pressed to her face, the words, “See you at lunch!” scrawled out in big black hiragana.

“Yeah, yeah, go to class!” he chastised her, winking before closing the door with a soft smile. The group of girls welcomed him back and he nodded in acknowledgment, swinging into his seat with ease. However, before turning his attention to the teacher entering the room, his eyes flickered over to Hiroshi and his grin widened, waving a hand, “Yo, Kingo! How’s it going?”

Hiroshi blinked, watching as the girls and a few boys gaped at the sudden greeting. Where was the imbecile going with this? In response, he shrugged, “Fine. Same as it ever was, really.”

“Good,” Ishida nodded, smiling all the more like an idiot, churning Hiroshi’s stomach with that same indescribable feeling whenever he found them gone from the bench outside his window, “Good. I’m glad.”

Kotone passed him a note as soon as the teacher’s back was turned, face contorted in suspicion: Since when are you so chummy with Ishida? I’ve never seen you speak more than two words to him.

He wrote back a few minutes later: I’m not. Your flimsy crush is just being a typical idiot.

“Ishida is not an idiot,” she seethed beside him, catching the attention of their teacher.

“Ah, Hayashi-san,” he smiled, “I’m happy you’ve volunteered to solve the problem. Please, come up and show us how it’s done.”

“Uhhh…” Kotone trailed, shooting a furious glance at Hiroshi before standing up, “Yes, Kobayashi-sama.”

His day grew stranger as he entered the assigned room for the creative writing club after class, Nishiyima practically bouncing into his face and mouthing a small ‘hi.’ She followed him to his seat and sat beside him, scribbling out a long line of characters. Once she was finished, she lifted the notebook to her face and it read out: How are you today, Kingo-san? I hope well! Let’s make club this afternoon really fun!

“Umm,” Hiroshi blinked as he did with Ishida and couldn’t help it as his skin prickled. Was there something on his face? Some joke he was getting? This couldn’t be a coincidence. Ishida only ever discussed homework with him and Nishiyima, while polite, had never actively sought to grab his attention. Something was up, “I’m fine. And okay, let’s make club today…fun.”

Nishiyima grinned and flashed a thumbs up as their president clapped her hands, asking them to take out their latest assignment: an in-depth character profile of their lead protagonist. He didn’t have much time to think of Nishiyima and her jubilant expression much after, taking notes on everyone else’s leads and bulleting the pros and cons of each.

When the meeting was over and another assignment was handed to them, Hiroshi walked towards the exit and was mildly surprised as Nishiyima jumped in front of him, notebook wound tight to her chest and a new string of words waiting to be read: Would you like to watch the rest of Ishida’s baseball practice with me? We could walk home together after!

“That’s alright, I - ” he was about to decline, when abrupt realization punched him in the gut hard. They knew. They knew he lived across the street. They must have seen him from the other side of the glass on the second floor, buried in his studies. Had they caught him looking? But how? He would have known! He obviously would have seen them staring back! It was impossible.

His face flushed, his mind swirling and distorting the shapes and colors nearby. He needed to leave, right now, “Excuse me, I have other plans. Go away.”

And just like that, he pushed through her and the open door and ran out into the hall, ignoring the gargled ‘Kingo-san!’ escaping Nishiyima. Stupid, stupid, stupid! Of course they were going to find out he lived there sooner or later, leaving the curtains open like that every damn day!

“What’s the matter with you, boy?” his mother asked as he rushed passed her in the kitchen, grabbing a cup with shaky hands and turning on the faucet, “You didn’t fail a test, did you? What a waste.”

“No, mother,” he croaked out, filling up the cup and subsequently pouring the water over his head, drenching his hair and face, “It was nothing at all.”

That day and every day after, he kept the curtains closed, never daring to sneak a peek again. It was over and he told himself he didn’t care. They were just two stupid kids that sat outside his window every afternoon, signing away and enjoying the simple company of the other. They didn’t mean anything to him and he didn’t mean anything to them. He had friends that kept him occupied enough. There was no need to get attached to anyone else. To involve himself in their trivial affairs or to stop others from their pesky, belittling gossip. He was an observer, taking in information and keeping it all to himself. To never use against or defend.

It was just there. Just like him.

The next few weeks passed by in a blur, attempts by anyone except Kotone to incite his attention thwarted by complete focus in the problems on the whiteboard or the words in a textbook. There was no need to care, he’d come to understand. He would be leaving in a year anyway. To places of bright lights and alleyway adventures, a dream instilled in him at the ripe old age of six. When he lifted a tearful gaze from the carpet and it landed on an old brochure from UC Berkley. Everything had been planned to the very last detail since and nowhere was it written he would befriend a robust, charismatic boy and his deaf, goofy girlfriend.

Nowhere was it written he should yearn for it either. For that was the feeling brewing in his gut every time he missed their walk back home or when they said hello. That is what he chose to deny. For how could he ever seek their friendship now, given everything he had heard and how little he had done to defend them? It was a loss cause. Better to unlatch from some whimsical fantasy than to let go of a friendship thriving.

So caught up in his affirmations, he almost didn’t hear Kotone’s distinct giggle coming from a nearby classroom, something along the lines of “C’mon, eat it!” calling him back to the hallway. Her tone…that didn’t sound like her usual whine. He was astonished he could even recognize her voice…it felt darker.

“Hayashi?” he knocked on the door, a wave of gasps coming from the other side of the door. So, she wasn’t alone, “You in there?”

“Yeah, Hiroshi!” he could imagine her twisting her hair around her finger, something she typically did when nervous, “Everything is fine. Just you know, hanging out with - “

“Keengo-san!”

His heart seemed to freeze in that instant, Nishiyima’s desperate plea shooting unpleasant shivers up his spine, “…..is that Nishiyima, Kotone?”

“No, no!” her voice broke, fear quaking in her throat, “That’s just - just Yamaguchi-chan! Silly Hiro - “

“Stop lying and open the door, Kotone,” he ordered, shaking the knob and pressing the whole of his body into the door, “Now.”

“Everything is fine, Hiro-kun!” she exclaimed, using his childhood nickname for the first time in weeks, “No need to worry, just walk away and go home!”

Like I always do, he chided himself, swallowing thickly. If he broke down this door and discovered exactly what Kotone and her clique was doing with Nishiyima, there would be no turning back. He could observe no longer. He’d be stuck with Nishiyima and consequently, Ishida as well. They, either as flesh or bone or as fragmented memories, would remain with him forever and always.

Then he realized if he did nothing, they would still remain. But as ghosts, haunting him from every corner of the world. And he would never be able to escape.

“Open the door, Kotone,” he repeated, shoving his body into frame, “Open it or I swear I will break it down!”

A few shoves more and the door flung open and he almost flew smack dab into her. Kotone’s face was twisted into a regretful sob, her hands stretching out towards him, “I - I didn’t want you to - “

He pushed her out of the way and the rest of the girls jumped back as he approached them. As soon as Nishiyima was in view, a lump tightened in his throat, eyes widening in revulsion. Her arms were covered in large, red marks, taking the shapes of greedy hands. Her hair was disheveled, patches of long strands sitting in her lap. And her face was hardened into a defiant scowl, unafraid, shaking fists curled into her thighs as she looked on at the bowl next to her. A bowl designed with little bones and filled to the brim with dog food.

Kotone had always been a gossip. But he never thought…he never imagined…

“You…” his voice came out a whisper, his body wrung with an intense anger, “You were going to feed her dog food, Kotone?”

“It wasn’t my idea!” she wailed, running up to him and clinging to his shoulder, “It was Yamaguchi-chan’s! She figured after Nishiyima hit on you even though she had Ishida, she deserved to eat some like the tramp she is. We were only trying to teach her a lesson!”

“Hit on me?” he pulled away from her, noticing how the rest of the girls had already fled the scene, “Nishiyima never hit on me! Where did you get a stupid idea like that?”

“Yes she did! A few weeks ago!” she countered, tears streaming down her face, “While you two were at writing club together. A few people saw when you rejected her and ran away! It’s been going around the school ever since and I couldn’t believe she had taken advantage of you like that.”

“You believed all those petty rumors?” he sneered as he walked over to Nishiyima to pick her up from off the ground, “Why didn’t you just ask me? Isn’t that what friends do, Kotone?”

“I - ” another on flux of tears broke from her eyes, clinging to her chin, “I didn’t want you to know what we were going to do! You’ve been acting so strange these last few weeks, I just figured the rumors had to be true! And I wanted to do something about it. So we waited until Ishida was at an away game…”

By that time, Hiroshi wasn’t listening anymore, inspecting Nishiyima for any serious injuries. Despite the circumstance, despite the last time they had spoke he ran out on her, she looked up to him, beamed, and mouthed ‘thank you so much.’

It was then he understood. This was not the first time Nishiyima had struggled and fought her way out of terrible cruelty. He should have known better, given the way she smiled like everyday was the best day of her life.

He really did have a lot to learn, considering how blind he had been.

“Consider our friendship over, Hayashi-san,” he emphasized, not bothering to turn back when they exited the classroom, “You and your friends will be hearing from the principal in the morning.”

Hiroshi walked her home, pointing him where to turn and cross. He carried all of her schoolbags, but she insisted on keeping her notebook and a pen and about a block away from her house, she shoved the book into his face, the words “I’m sorry,” scribbled out.

“What?” he jerked to a stop, a new wave of fury wafting over his shoulders, “Don’t you ever be sorry! None of that was your fault. If anything, it had been mine. I was so stupid these last few weeks, I didn’t notice what Kot - Hayashi-san and her friends were planning. And - and I never defended you when people were teasing you behind your back and I’m sorry about that too. I was an idiot. I let that stuff happen, just because I thought it didn’t matter since I would be leaving…that was unfair to you.”

Nishiyima shook her head and smiled, taking back the notebook and writing up a new set of words: No, I am sorry. For not trying harder to be your friend. Ishida and I saw you inside your house everyday and we would always sign how we wanted you to come outside and join us sometime.

“You and Ishida…want to be my friend?” he asked, the stir in his chest growing more prominent by the second, “Why?”

Because we wanted to be, she wrote, What more reason is there?

“…None,” he replied with striking resolve, “Absolutely none.”

After he and Nishiyima explained what had occurred to her mother and Hiroshi assured her he would give a full report to what he witnessed tomorrow, the deaf teen brought him for a tight hug, a spoken “thank you,” vibrating against his chest.

“You never have to thank me,” Hiroshi said, pulling away, “You’re my friend now and friends protect each other.”

Her eyes lit up at the word friend and she gave him two thumbs up as he descended down the stairs of their apartment complex with a stiff wave. It didn’t matter that his parents asked him a million question when he arrived home or suspected him of getting into a gang and ruining their reputation. For the first time in his life, he had stood up for something, for someone. All this time preparing for the rest of his life and he had forgotten how to live. And never before had he felt so…

“Human,” Ishida said as they waited for Nishiyima outside of the girls’ locker room, “You finally felt human, right?”

“Yeah,” he shrugged, a little annoyed that his friend had taken the words right out of his mouth. Like he always did, “I guess.”

“Hey, don’t you ‘you guess’ me!” he chuckled, smacking him on the back, “You know you fail miserably at playing the stoic now!”

“Says you,” Hiroshi countered, poking Ishida in the ribs and getting another good laugh out of him.

They quieted down and looked to the window across the hallway, the sun starting to set. Nishiyima’s tennis practices sure could take awhile, not that either minded. It just meant longer sign language lessons for Hiroshi, which was surprisingly more difficult to grasp than he had last imagined.

“Hey,” Ishida broke the silence, eyes still lingering on the sun, “Did Nishiyima ever tell you why we wanted to be friends?”

“She said that wanting to be a friend was reason enough,” he replied.

“Yeah, well that’s true too,” his friend explained, “We really did want to be your friend about a week into setting up that spot on the bench. We just didn’t know how to go about it. You’re a lot different than both of us and you seemed to shut everyone away…that’s when Nishiyima realized that you must have suffered, like us.”

“You two have suffered plenty more,” Hiroshi said, chewing on the walls of his mouth, “I know. You’ve told me.”

Ishida didn’t respond, continuing on with his story instead, “We didn’t mean to, but you remember that day about four months ago when we both asked how you were doing? It was because, the day before…Shouko wanted to walk on the other side of the street for kicks and I was more than happy to oblige. But when we came to your house…we heard shouting. Well, I did most of the hearing, but she could feel it. The anger in your house was practically radiating off the place. And we knew you were inside, but when we crossed the street, you weren’t there…and we didn’t see you until an hour later. I know. I checked my damn watch almost every minute.”

“Oh…” Hiroshi trailed, “So I guess I don’t need to tell you how emotionally abusive my household can be. That’s a relief.”

“Kingo,” Ishida narrowed his eyes, leaning in to squeeze his shoulder, “You don’t have to be silent about that. I know you think we’ve suffered more than you because of how we were hurt by others and by one another as kids, but at least we had loving families to go home to. You? You’ve suffered just as much, if not more.”

“What is this?” Hiroshi tried to jeer even though his eyes were beginning to rim with tears, “Some kind of pity contest?”

“No,” Ishida shook his head, bringing Hiroshi in for a hug, “This is me telling you that Shouko and I care about you and you never have to go at it alone again. Even when you do go to a super cool university in America, we’ll still be here. Whenever you need us.”

“How can you make such stupid promises?” he scoffed, wiping at his face when the tears began to spill, the churning in his stomach transforming into full-fledged belly flops, cascades of trilling warmth spreading across his skin, “What are you, a shounen hero looking after your gloomy friend?”

“No,” Ishida shook his head again, his eyes shining as the locker room doors opened to reveal a cheerful Nishiyima, “It’s not a promise. It’s a duty.”

And so, the trio comprised of “the fool, the tramp, and the snitch,” as dubbed by their fellow schoolmates walked out of the grounds and towards the park across Hiroshi’s house, the teen trying to catch up with the lovestruck fools’ rapid sign language every step of the way.


End file.
